There’s a subtle note of insecurity wafting from your good intent.
I’m all white tee, jeans, and tipped black baseball cap.
You’re all guarded and goofy
careful to keep your inhibitions at bay.
Breaking these barriers, letting the music roll around,
watching you from across the room.
You’re a bicycle helmet, a bright orange cone.
My foot is tapping and I am sitting back,
waiting, waiting ... for your guard to snag.
It’s a game of double-dutch, a properly timed jump.
And I  want ...
to let you climb,
slide,
against my
shifting ropes.
You’re a complex obstacle course
and I am ...
Deconstructing your
carefully laid plans,
removing expectations of how this should all go down.
Mmm ... and you go ...
down.
Letting me remove your safety vest,
your arm floaties deflated on my floor
it’s an evil thing I’m doing here,
you’re an un-grounded line
and I’m an alpha-female storm.
I don’t know if you’re better off,
for dropping your guard,
but damned if I’m not gonna' continue to pull,

tug,
remove,

each and every one of your, seemingly secure, safety plugs.